Chapter 10

Tamela proved to be a wonderful sister/slave and babysitter. Mom and I would often visit, bringing Ralph Jr. with us. After Mom fed both babies, for some reason Janice’s milk never came in, Janice, Tamela, and I would drain her huge juggs.

During each visit, I required my little sister to tell me a story of her youth. The tales of how her parents used her for their own gratification, blew away all of Janice’s stories! Tamela was a high priestess of suffering compared to my two pain/sluts. Usually before the end of her story, I was double fucking Mom and Janice to blow the first of several loads into their potentially impregnated bodies.

Tamela never gave me cause to punish her, except when she called me Big Brother instead of Edward. This was how she let me know that she needed a prime whipping.

Most times during our visits, I would slap her around and belt her up and down her torso, inflaming her tits, arms, armpits, belly and pubis. She writhed with joy, anticipating the fat lengths of irritant coated rubber that we would stuff into her. She hated the taste of the goo, but she swore the pain in her mouth and across her tongue was worth it. Tamera was an orgasm machine. Once aroused, we could keep her climaxing for hours.

Mom, Janice and I reaped the benefits of our new slut. Her obvious joy was the greatest aphrodisiac. I stopped using the occasional viagra when I discovered how Tamela’s writhings and mewlings would get me hard, minutes after shooting a full load of cum into one of my other sluts.

I wouldn’t fuck Tamera, not in any of her holes. I wanted to, but there was another desire that compelled me to wait. I think she had the same compulsion.

It was Tuesday, and Mom had to stay with Ralph Jr. who was sick. My daughter, Jill, was acting up so Janice suggested that Tamela and I go outside. I suspected a plot, but you couldn’t fake my son’s slight fever.

“Let’s go, Edward.” Tamela seemed eager to get out of the house. At school, all the boys and girls avoided her. Even the teachers kept their distance, to protect themselves from the taint of a pedophilia victim. No one trusted her. I was often told to beware of a girl who must be a psychological mess. She kept herself indoors or in the backyard.

Tamela did see a court appointed psychologist. She never told me what happened in their sessions, except. “It’s just bullshit.” I believed her. I never asked about them.

We found ourselves walking to a small park in the neighborhood. “When I turned fourteen, my parents finally took my virginity.” She meant they had broken her hymen. They never let a live cock near her holes, any of them. He father would often threaten to breed her, because that was one of of her mother’s fetishes. He loved to arouse his wife with those threats to their daughter.

“Mom and Dad loved me.” She had said it many times, “But they let their imaginations control them. They trained me to love pain and being penetrated. I can’t tell you when they first masturbated me. Daily spankings and weekly whippings were my normal life. They never got angry with me. They only pretended to be upset as part of their game to play out their fantasies.”

“I can’t promise that I’ll never get angry.”

“They weren’t that perfect. However, they angered so rarely, I never felt unloved. They meted out pain but the pleasure was always greater. I knew I would alway be cared for no matter how much they hurt me.”

“I want to put a baby in you.”

“I want that too. For years, I dreamed of being bred by my father. I would love for my big brother to make me big with a fetus.”

I changed the subject. “Thank you for giving me a reason to whip you. I worry though that I will lose control. I swear I have without knowing it.”

“You’ve never scratched the surface of the whippings I used to get. Mom and Dad were specialists at causing the most pain with the least amount of damage. The doctors, after I was ‘rescued’ by the police, said that I was perfectly healthy. But don’t take my bias to love my mom and dad, as truth. They were broken people, and what they did to me was wrong. I know that, but I also know what I am, and I cried tears of joy when Mistress told me about the life I could live in the new family she and later you invited me to join. No matter how long I live or how quickly you discard me, I will never again find anything as wonderful as Mistress, my big brother, and Mommy.”

I chuckled. “I didn’t invite you, Slut Sister. I took you.”

“Take me, Big Brother.” She stopped on the grass and we made out, not caring who watched. I groped her breasts, and she whispered, begging to fondle my erection that throbbed against her belly button. Heads turned away when our snogging got carried away. Not that we showed anything naughty. Our hands went everywhere. I whispered, “You must learn to call me Edward, Slut.”

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t sorry. She knew, upon returning to her home, I would tan her hide until I tired of beating her. Then we would cuddle, and she would cry in my arms, and cum would spontaneously erupt from my dick. The first time that happened, I fell in love with her.

“I will keep loving you.” Lilith promised on the day I dumped her.

“That’s your business. It’s not mine anymore.”

“Yes, my former boyfriend. But please, let me keep my collar.” The scratched up band’s engraving was fading. “I want to treasure my time with you.”

“Do what you want with it.” I had no use for the old thing. I felt like crying, but I stupidly put on brave and cold airs. I would never see my first, sexual girlfriend ever again.

I ended our relationship during a minor shopping trip. She wanted to buy sexy underwear for herself to arouse me. I refused her offer. Then I explained that I couldn’t be her boyfriend anymore. She wept and stuffed a hundred dollars into my hands. “This’ll get you home.” She ran to her car and drove away.

I told her to meet me again the next day, and she obeyed. She had no illusions that I would return to her. I simply wanted to talk everything out. Couples who end their romance with large, loose ends are destined to bring ugly baggage to their next relationship.

We ended things as cleanly as possible, and kept in touch while we processed our disappointments and some anger. She never expressed hers, but it must have dwarfed mine. I felt a little relief as well as sadness, and I worried more about the former.

Mom consoled me. Even Dad took a shot at cheering me up. He had never approved of Lilith, but Mom had told him to keep his opinions to himself. I thanked him. He was a klutz of a husband in bed, but in everything else important Dad could be counted on. My parents’ sex life had dwindled again, Mom finally confessing that she knew he most often pretended to enjoy sex. The times they did make love, Mom gave her whole heart to him. On all the other days, she bowed before me and did my bidding until I allowed her to cum.

I’m rambling. Remembering when I had to face my true feelings and let them run their course, is never easy. I struggle with emotional honesty to this day.

Tamela became my true love and lasting joy. She took care of my babies when I was compelled to take charge of Mommy and Janice’s sexual needs. My sister would gaze into my eyes, clamped in a zone of pain that always promised greater rewards, as I belted and used many other tools to prolong her suffering until I couldn’t bear hurting her further. Then we would fall together kissing, hugging, me slathering soothing gel over the dark marks suffusing her skin. She would experience prolonged and back to back orgasms as we loved each other. I would cum at her touch, often multiple times, sometimes without being touched at all. She took care of me in a way that only a partner could.

Mom knew before I did, that I would dump Lilith. She tried to warn her, but Lilith wouldn’t hear it, until she heard me tell her. We spent weeks allowing ourselves to express our feelings. I moved out of the house and into a rented room for a couple months. That alone time was the best choice I ever made as a teenager, except for taking Tamela into my family. Mom was pregnant again. I waited too long to decide its fate. She had to get a first trimester abortion. I apologized, and she chided me. Dad never knew she was pregnant.

I told Janice to get an IUD. She never caught again. I couldn’t bear to spill my seed into Mommy without any chance of getting her pregnant. She used a cervical cap without spermicide. It was about as effective as pulling out, fairly effective but not greatly effective.

Tamela remained innocent in all three of her holes. She surprised me one day, accusing me of putting her on a pedestal. “I’m the only girl at school who hasn’t lost one of her virginities. What are you waiting for, a note from a mullah?”

I knew what I was doing, however it pained me. “I’m trolling you, Little Sister. Not losing your virginity is the one thing that bugs you beyond your control. I love how you make mistakes after you confront me, and I stand my ground. I get to punish you for a real reason, instead of giving your daily spankings and slaps. I love it when you lose control.”

“Be careful of your hubris, Eddie. I may make the mistake of losing one of my unfucked holes to someone else!” She warned. I knew that she would never give them to anyone but me, but there are assholes and rapists who might have a go at her.

We talked about lesbian assaults on her person, and decided that only if a determined woman plumbed some part of her flesh, deep into the targeted hole Tamela would lose that bit of innocence. We were teenagers not philosophers. Her Mistress and Mommy had tasted and excited every part of her body, but they weren’t doing it solely to get themselves off. We gave them a pass.

Tamela’s warning hit home. She would let me control her whenever I was in her presence, but her personal life was largely outside of our agreement. She kept my wishes in mind, just as I tried to keep her needs ahead of my selfish lust. We didn’t always succeed. I was risking something that I valued immensely, however trivial the concept of virginity actually is.

Near the end of my senior year, I thought of a compromise.

“A chastity belt?” She mocked me. “Why not plug my mouth with a lock as well?”

“Are you going to wear it?” I couldn’t back down no matter how on the mark her satirical jab jabbed.

She fell silent, breathing loudly, almost hissing.

When I had asked for Mom’s take, she told me I was being silly. “Those are fetish items, no longer intended to be used for their original purpose.”

I swore that there were manufacturers who made viable harnesses. I had read the reviews.

Janice offered to buy it, but I felt I should earn the money. That way two of her chastities would remain securely mine.

“Yes.” Tamela submitted. I hugged and kissed her, but she wasn’t as thrilled as I was. I just knew that she would eventually warm to my twenty four hour control of her vagina and anus.

She attended college while I finished high school. We had less time together, but our sessions were more intense. Officially eighteen and mistress of her destiny, Tamela remained in Janice’s home. She wanted to save money, hers and Mistress’s. That was the excuse. In truth she intended to miss as few of our family escapades as possible. Ralph Jr. turned two years old. Jill was ten months behind him. Both took occasional nourishment from their Mommy’s and Auntie’s breasts respectively. Janice’s milk had come in during her second pregnancy. We kept the well full, by draining her tits regularly.

Few of Tamela’s college classmates knew of her incest branded past. Most of the people who heard the rumors didn’t believe them or didn’t care. Tamela started making other friends, introverts like her. None of them could be trusted with the mildest of her sexual proclivities. Still, her heart grew to accept others.

In my first year at the state university in our city, Tamela appeared in my dorm room. She was crying. That never happened unless she was orgasming. “He put it right - in front of me, a-and I wanted it. I took it. I tried to pull away before he came, but he grabbed my head and forced his cum down my throat. I didn’t object. I never told him, ‘No.’”

She had been at a party, drinking lightly, but she was a lightweight. Before she knew it, a guy she didn’t know was talking her up. “Just kiss it.” He urged her after a long build up of actually funny jokes and sly complements.

“I loved it, Edward! And now I hate myself!”

The news left me numb. I couldn’t find one spark of anger, except for the raging bonfire of self-loathing that ignited within. “Get out, Tamela. I promised never to strike you in anger.” Was my excuse.

I actually wanted to jump out the window. From the third floor of my dormitory, I would have only broken my legs. She left but made me promise that, once I dealt with the news, I would prove my love for her.”

Instead of breaking my legs, I chickened out. I went home and gave Mom the most difficult order ever. “Whip me, Mommy. I’m broken, and my heart is dying. It’s all my fault.” I told her why, and she managed to resist laughing.

Mom knew my heart better than I did. “I’m going to tell your father that Ralph Jr. is your child.”

Her declaration was a bolt of lightning. My sensibilities flared out from their self-obsessed gang bang. “What?!”

“You heard me, Eddie. If a stupid blowjob is enough to send you into a tailspin, I’m going to come clean with my infidelity. I’ll show you what true immorality looks and sounds like. Ralph will probably throw me out of the house, and he’ll hire lawyers to contend that I seduced you. I’ll have to live with Janice, if she’ll let me. You may get to see your son, but I never will. I’ll still be your slut, even if I’m living on the street after my prison sentence, but yours probably won’t be the only cock I’ll submit too.

“Mom, that’s crazy!” I woke up from my dream of holding innocent Tamela in my arms forever.

“Not half as crazy as losing your shit over a cock cumming in a mouth.”

“But she wanted it!”